The small squirrel chittered and squeaked. It capered and danced. The man watching it smiled, smoothing his mustache with the tip of a finger. The small squirrel looked at a nearby acorn resting on the ground, then back at the man, twitching its whiskers. Then it sat on its haunches and waited.

“Very clever,” said the man. “Very fun. Such a nice squirrel dance you have made.” He reached into the waxed paper bag that sat upon his lap and drew forth a peanut shell. The squirrel flicked its tail. “This is what you want?” said the man. He cracked the shell with a fingernail and dug the nut out, holding it before his nose. The small squirrel was transfixed.

With a twist of his wrist the man tossed the nut. It landed on the ground and bounced only once before the squirrel had it. The man chuckled as the squirrel dashed back into the crevice of the tree.

Inside the dark confines of the tree the squirrel lifted a paw and tugged at its front. The squirrel’s skin unzipped and sloughed to the floor, revealing a small man wearing a suit and sporting a dark mustache. An exact copy of the man upon the bench. The small man lifted the large nut in his arms and walked to the back of the hollow. He pressed a hand to a smooth patch of bark and a wavering circle appeared on the wood. He stepped through the circle and it closed behind him with a snap.